Don't look at my eyebrows!
by Peira
Summary: What happens when you wake up in different body? Rated T for language (especially for Romano's mouth in later chapters)


"Mon amie~ what's with that face of yours? Have you forgotten how to smile? It's really easy, try it! We just take these little cheeks and-"

"DON'T TOUCH ME YOU BLOODY FROG!"

That stupid brat. Who does he think he is? And how the bloody hell am I supposed to smile while he's sitting next to me? I wonder how did he make me come to this bar with him. I sigh and look down to a glass that is half-fulled with something transparent and lightly golden-colored. I don't even know what it is but as far there's alcohol in it, I don't really mind drinking it. At least there's something better to focus my mind on than just sitting here and bearing with that exceedingly annoying Frenchman.

"By the way, you look beautiful tonight" he says.

I do not hear him.

"Is that a new tie? It perfectly matches your wonderful eyes~"

I do NOT hear him!

"Maybe we could go to my house to have some-"

"NO, we couldn't! And if you don't want my fist to land on your stupid face, shut up!" I flare up and chug that mysterious (but extraordinarily tasty) fluid from glass. What on earth am I even doing here? Does that frog really think he can just take me out to this bar just because I'm psychologically disturbed by the end of season of Doctor Who? Does he?!

Well, somehow, he did it. After all, I'm not surprised. This is not the first time I ended up getting drunk with this cocky idiot. I do even know what's to happen next: I'll get drunk and we'll come to his house, he'll try to abuse me, I'll punch him, then fall asleep and in the morning I'll wake up with horrible hangover, but surprised by delicious breakfast he'll make for me. Everytime it's the same.

I heave a sigh.

"You know what? Let's go. I'm tired." I say, because I really am. I can't say that I was working all day, but the end of the season of your favourite TV show always exhaust you. At least, it's not that bad as it was when I watched Sherlock. I refused to eat for tree days. Then this French bastard cooked his fucking scrumptious _coq au vin_ and all my hard work trying to be flustrated for whole week was lost. I must say that he has his brighter sides. I would be grateful to him for helping me in these evenings, if he wasn't the one who was always responsible for me coming here.

But now, I am really astonished by his behaving. Without any of his mocking speeches, he just nods and pays for my drink. I was expecting him trying to make me drink another twenty glasses of alcohol as he usually did and I'm little disappointed he didn't do it this time. I even get craving for telling him to stay here a little longer, but then I find us leaving the bar.

We walk down the street. It's not far to his house, it takes about ten minutes to get there on foot. And at moments like this, fresh air is exactly what I need.

I walk quietly and don't really listen to the Frenchman walking next to me, who is probably trying to figure out what we would do when we get home. I hope he won't come up with anything...inappropriate.

No, he didn't. I suppose he was as tired as I am right now, because at the moment we got home, he took a quick shower and headed sraight to bed. Even without saying „Bonne nuit" that always irritated me so much, but somehow, right noe I miss it. Wow. I've never seen him like this. He was always the one staying awake almost to the morning, trying to convince me to do the same. Well, at least he doesn't bother me.

Suddenly I realize how incredible tired I am. I haven't drunk that much, but my head is spinning like hell...I think I just need...I need to sit down for a while...oh my, this chair is so comfortable...I'll just close my eyes for a while...

In the morning, I feel fresh and well-rested. I smile a little, this was exactly what I needed! Oh, did I really fell asleep on a chair? That frog didn't carry me to his bed as usually? Well, who cares, I slept like I've never done before and now I feel good and completely relaxed. What a beautiful morning! Sun is shining, birds are singing in the garden, my hair is tickling me on my neck...

Wait, what?

One of my hands shoot up to my head. Why the hell is my hair long?! God, how many years did I sleep?!

"Hey, Francis!" I yell and then I nearly smother myself with my own tongue. This voice that just came out of my mouth was much more softer and a little deeper than was the mine. It reminded me a certain Frenchman who hasn't answered yet.

I lift up both my arms to examine my face. No. This is not my face at all.

I stand up and shoot to the bathroom. Then my eyes meet the reflection in the mirror. A pair of two blue eyes. Long and well-cared blonde hair and slight goatee beard on chin. I don't see myself. I see an extremely surprised Franchman.

„What the hell…"

Then everything goes black.


End file.
